Fontegaia, slowly winding up/down...

i.m. Sister Dorothy Stang (1930-2005)

Old Noah let fly the dove across the shimmering
expanse & she did not return & so he knew
she was nesting somewhere as doves will do
perhaps in the shelter of a tamarind tree (sing

so I do woo who) or in the Wild West
forest of the Amazon where the violent
greedy & arrogant lawless with impunity
lord it over the poor but it will not always

be so (no no) it will not be so
when General Dove come brooding, blooming
out of the treasure chest of a looming, booming
General Dave the planetary voice come drooping

slow wheeling in the shadow of a condor overhead
the hovering pivot of the J in Jubilee your
heart's breakline an inward Inca Cuzco lore
the iron-spurred spring out of the sepulchre indeed

It grips the earth with a raptor's rapture
Justice all clear through & through because
it is a fateful swell (like water in sunlight's haze-
shine rainbow) early consciousness born of desire

& ratified refined by fire to pure conscience
grown free & sure transparent measure
of the ninefold Law out of a threefold choir
(3 rising triplets, folded in glancing descent or

swerve of seraph wing) O I hear the ancient
potter's wheel in the creak of an oaken rudder
aimed upstream, & violin mosquito-whine (horsehair
held taut to celebrate love's Oriental fundament)

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